Erik is Dead
by Slina
Summary: Christine will not believe that Erik is dead. But when she finds herself haunted by his eyes, how far will she go to save herself from madness... and to prove he still lives? Oneshot. Lerouxbased. Written for PFNs third morbidity contest.


_Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Phantom of the Opera._

Erik Is Dead

Erik is dead. The words pounded through Christine's head. She knew they could not be true, but they refused to stop their endless refrain. Erik is dead. The shadowy curtains swayed by the window with the steady rhythm. Erik is dead. The moon cast an eerie glow throughout the room. Erik is dead. Dark shadows darted from corner to corner. Erik is dead.

Christine sat up and thrust her hands over her ears to shut out the endless refrain. Erik is dead. Erik is dead… No, he could not be dead. Had she not seen him only a week ago? He had let her go with Raoul. Yes, Erik was alive.

She fell back against the pillows and closed her eyes. Why must those words keep running through her mind? Of course he was alive. He had promised that she would know when he was dead. Yes, he was alive, she was sure of it. Erik is alive. Erik is alive. Erik is alive. Erik is dead. No! He was not dead! He could not be dead! Erik was alive!

She was not sure why she must be so determined that he was alive. After all, had she not promised Raoul that they could be married once Erik was dead? And she wanted to be married, did she not? She loved Raoul, of course she did. They why did she want Erik to remain alive?

Erik is dead… Was that not what she wanted? Of course it was. But no, how could she possibly want him dead? He was not a monster, but a man! Yes he deserved to die, and yet he deserved to live!

The steady rhythm continued, pounding in her ears. Erik is dead. Erik is dead. Erik is dead…

Her eyes flew open. The moon had disappeared, and two flaming eyes stared back at her from the foot of her bed. "Erik?" she whispered, but there was no reply. Those eyes only stared back at her… endlessly and without blinking. Erik is alive, she told herself. Erik cannot be dead.

She groped for a match on the bedside table. There! She grabbed one, struck it against the table's surface, and held it out in front of her with a shaking hand. The eyes were gone. But how? Surely they had been there only a few moments before! Now, there was nothing but the flickering flame above her fingers, and beyond that, only darkness. She shuddered and blew out the light. She must have been dreaming. Erik was alive.

The next day, Christine tried to forget the dream as she rode with Raoul through the icy streets, searching for a priest who could marry them. Raoul was upset that the search must take so long, but it did not matter to Christine. They would not marry yet. How could they marry while Erik remained alive?

"Christine, what is the matter?" Raoul asked, breaking their long silence.

Christine kept her eyes fixed on the passing streets. "Erik is not dead," she murmured.

"Surely you cannot still be thinking of him!" Raoul took both of her hands in his. "Christine, look at me."

Christine reluctantly tore her eyes away from the window and turned toward him. But she did not dare to look into his eyes.

"You are safe from him now," Raoul said gently. "He let you go. Is that not enough for you?"

"Erik is not dead," Christine repeated. She could still see the blazing eyes from the night before. Surely it had all been a dream, but what a terrible dream it had been! "Erik is not dead."

Raoul gently shook her. "Christine, look at me. You cannot be well!"

Christine felt a shiver run through her. Oh, what a terrible dream it had been!

Raoul's voice was growing panicked. "Look into my eyes, Christine. Everything will be all right, you must know that! Please, look at me!"

Christine slowly looked up at his hands… his shoulders… his chin… his eyes. No, his eyes did not burn like the eyes from the night before. Why should they?

"Christine, can you hear me? Please tell me if you can hear me!"

Christine kept staring into his blue eyes. How different they were from the eyes of last night! Last night, they had been burning and blazing, but now they were such a cold blue. So cold and so deep. So unlike the night before.

Raoul shook her again in his panic. "Christine, tell me what is the matter! Please tell me you can hear me, Christine! Christine!"

"Erik is not dead," she murmured. Oh, how cold and how deep his eyes were. But now they were growing hotter! Hotter, brighter, fiercer! The eyes from last night! "Erik is alive!" she shrieked. "He cannot be dead! He is alive!"

"Christine!" came Raoul's panicked shout, but Christine paid no attention. She could only see the eyes!

"Erik is alive!" she screamed again, and collapsed in desperate sobs against Raoul. Her entire body shook as he held her closely in his arms.

"He will not be alive much longer," Raoul said quietly. "Then we can be rid of him for good."

"No, he will always be alive! There will always be his eyes!"

Raoul did not reply, but simply ran his fingers through her hair while holding her in a soothing embrace.

The eyes returned that night. The next day, she spent all the time with Raoul she possibly could, but she still kept seeing glimpses of those terrible eyes. Raoul was growing increasingly alarmed, but Christine would not tell him about the eyes. He was so determined to protect her that she was afraid of what he might do. Erik was alive, and she could not let him die.

The nights were beginning to stretch into the days. Every morning the eyes would still be there, staring at her until every light in her room had been lit. Even during the day, she could no longer look at anyone's face without seeing those fiery eyes. Those eyes were following her, and they were forever coming closer.

She began to go to sleep with the lamps lit. The eyes still came, but their fire seemed a little less when they were in the light. During the day, she spent as much time under the bright sun as possible, hoping to frighten the eyes away. "Erik is alive," she kept repeating to herself as though it were a magic spell. "Erik is alive." Surely as long as he remained alive he could do nothing to her. But who knew what he might do once he was dead? He must stay alive!

It was only two weeks before she could not stand it any longer. She had to go to him; she had to be sure he was still alive!

She threw on her cloak and ran through the streets to the Opera. She forced herself to ignore the stares from the people she passed. Oh, there were so many eyes! So many eyes!

Her footsteps fell into a steady rhythm: Erik is dead. Erik is alive. Erik is dead. Erik is alive. Erik is dead! Erik is alive!

At last, the Opera! She ran inside, ignoring the crowds of eyes calling after her, and rushed back, back, back until she was inside his labyrinth. His secret passageways were so terribly dark, and everywhere she looked she could see those eyes. They stared endlessly at her, drawing her forward with their frightening gaze.

They led her down one passageway and up another. The walk was long, and she soon became weary, but she could not stop following those eyes! They led her up passages and down stairways until at last she could hear the gentle splashing of the lake beneath her feet. The boat was still there at the shore, where she and Raoul had left it only three weeks ago. She climbed in and began again to follow the eyes.

When the eyes finally vanished in the middle of the water, she was not sure whether to be relieved or frightened. They were such terrible eyes, and yet they had left her so alone! She could only let the boat drift forward as she looked into the darkness for anything that could help her.

There! She could barely make out the outline of land, and the boat was drifting directly toward it! She gripped the sides of the boat, watching with anxious dread as it drew closer… closer…

The boat tipped against the ground and Christine slowly stood up, her entire body shaking. She stepped out onto the shore and pulled the boat up the best she could so it would not drift away. She tried to make out her surroundings in the oppressive gloom, but she could see little more than vague shapes. There was the outline of Erik's house. There was the path down to the well. The well… that was where she was to find Erik when he was dead, was it not? Yes, that was right. Perhaps that was where she would find him now.

She cautiously made her way down the uneven path. She could see very little through all the darkness. Almost nothing but shadows… Wait, there was the shadow of the well. The well where Erik had said she would find him. She slowed her pace, carefully studying everything she could as she approached. Surely he must be here somewhere!

Suddenly there they were, two blazing yellow eyes, coming directly toward her. Christine screamed, and two arms quickly wrapped around her. Their grasp was weak, but she still felt trapped by their icy embrace.

"Christine…" The eyes were speaking to her! She wanted to get away, but those horrible eyes were burning into her, refusing to let her go. "You have returned… Christine… my own Christine…"

The eyes were blazing in the darkness, screaming at her. Erik is dead! Erik is dead! Erik is dead!

No! "Erik is not dead!" she shrieked. "Erik is alive!" She thrust her hands at the eyes, trying desperately to put them out. They mocked her with their pulsing rhythm. Erik is dead. Erik is dead. Erik is dead. She forced her hands together, squeezing as they met icy flesh. She must put out those eyes! They screamed at her, telling her to stop. Erik is dead! Erik is dead! Erik is dead! She heard a gasp, a plea, a choke. The eyes burned fiercely. Erik is dead! Erik is dead! Erik is dead! She gave a final squeeze, and the eyes vanished. She could hear something fall to the ground as she broke out into laughter. "Erik is not dead!" she shouted into the darkness. "Erik is alive!"

The next day, the _Epoque_ published the following advertisement: "Erik is dead."


End file.
